


I follow every line that leads to you

by lunarblossoms



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, but also..., ish? it's in the normal canon but with changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarblossoms/pseuds/lunarblossoms
Summary: If there's one thing that Zeph has never felt more sure of in his life, it's the fact that he and Emet-Selch are bound to each other. For better or for worse, he's going to find out the truth.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing a self indulgent oc/npc fic? It's more likely than you think lmaoooo
> 
> My wol in this case is Zeph'yrr Rhenyaia, a miqo'te from the shroud. He's a gentle boy who loves studying ancient ruins and flowers, and cares deeply about his friends and helping people. I've talked about him a lot on my twitter and will probably continue to talk about him so if you want to know more, check out [my twitter](https://twitter.com/lunarbIossom).
> 
> My plans for this fic are to cover the general plot of Shadowbringers and the changes I've made that are specific to Zeph's canon and his relationship with Emet. Progress will be slow because I'm a slow writer but I hope this is enjoyable at least somewhat. Thanks for taking the time to read, if you do~ Also I will try to update tags as I go.
> 
> The title comes from the song [Dreaming by Ásgeir](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BAHefAg7D9o).

Zeph's eyes are closed where he sits on his bed in the pendants, his mind full of an overwhelming amount of thoughts swirling around in the cavity of his skull, not the least of which- in fact, the most of which- are centered around Emet-Selch. 

He wishes he could process them, wants to pick apart the puzzle pieces in his brain and put them back into their rightful places so he can figure out just what it is Emet-Selch ignites in him. But he has no idea where to start, no frame of reference for comprehending this predicament; not when he can barely understand just what it is he feels when he looks at the Ascian.

Familiarity, perhaps? Something oddly nostalgic, hovering just beneath the surface of his memories, swimming deeper and deeper but remaining always just out of grasp. Intrigue? A vague sense that there's something at the back of his mind that he can't recall no matter how hard he tries… Or something else? Is there something he's missing, or is he imagining it? He just doesn't know.

It feels strange, really, but somehow not off-putting. Instead, Zeph can't explain why but he finds himself drawn in by Emet-Selch, in the way a moth is drawn to a flame: he knows he might burn up if he attempts to draw closer, and yet he finds himself unable to deny the urge. Even after such a short introduction, mere minutes, he finds that he unfathomably wants to see Emet-Selch again, a desire that defies all logic and reasoning. Dramatic to the extreme, condescending, and for all intents and purposes, antagonistic… Not to mention the fact that he's an Ascian, one of the paragons the Scions have been working so hard to fight against all this time.

...And yet still, Zeph's fascination is undeterred.

He wants to ask himself why; though in the end, he thinks the why might not be all that important. He doesn't have any semblance of an answer, after all.

Lost in his head, it takes Zeph several moments to become aware of a presence somewhere behind him, and he almost doesn't turn around. It's probably Ardbert, he reasons, since the ghost man had been here minutes ago speaking with Zeph and might have forgotten something he wanted to say. With that expectation looming in his subconscious, he shifts and swings around on his bed.

As such, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say his heart feels like it jumps into his throat when he sees who his visitor is.

"So this is where the vaunted Warrior of Darkness sleeps, hm?"

"Emet-Selch," Zeph breathes out, blinking wide eyed at the Ascian who is currently seated in one of the chairs beside the table on the opposite side of the room. Golden eyes twinkle at him and a smirk pulls on smooth lips.

"In the flesh," Emet-Selch replies, standing in order to give a flourish of a bow that is both awkward and graceful at the same time before sitting back down. Gods, Zeph thinks unwittingly. He really is something else.

It hasn't even been that long since Emet-Selch had left, after he had impromptu and without precedent offered his cooperation to the Scions before disappearing into a swirling cloud of black and purple in front of the dossal gate. But as if he can somehow read Zeph's mind and knows his hidden desires, here he appears before Zeph now, still just as intriguing as he was the first time.

Zeph blinks once, twice, three times, just to be completely certain he's not dreaming. He wouldn't put it past his mind to play tricks on him, especially with how much has been happening lately. But when Emet-Selch merely blinks back at him, it at last seems to settle in and he finally moves forward from his spot, dropping his legs down to the floor and standing in order to move closer.

"Why are you here?" is his first question.

Emet-Selch gives him a nonchalant shrug. "I was… curious to see where someone of your caliber is staying. The Exarch sure was generous to provide you with such a nice room after your timely arrival, wasn't he?"

Zeph gets the sense that that isn't, in fact, the real reason the Ascian had invaded his quarters like this. After all, it lacks any real substance, falls flat when there clearly should be more depth. But he also feels like Emet-Selch isn't like to reveal the true reason even if he pushes the matter so he opts to drop it. There's a part of him that seems to hope that Emet-Selch had felt the same pull that he had on their first meeting but he doesn't dwell on that either- not when there exists no evidence to support so baseless a concept.

"Were you serious," he instead begins to ask, unable to stop himself. He can hear the unbridled curiosity in his own voice and he wonders what Emet-Selch thinks of it. "when you said you wanted to cooperate?"

Emet-Selch raises an eyebrow at him. "As serious as I am capable of being, yes." He smirks again as Zeph nears him. "Your friends seemed to doubt my words but you… I would wager a guess that you don't quite feel the same."

Zeph can hear Ardbert's warning in the back of his head, not to trust Emet-Selch or to take him at his word. He can still see the looks on his friends' faces when Emet-Selch introduced himself: wary, hostile, uncomfortable. And he can't deny that the Ascians have caused no shortage of problems for the Scions in the past. But something resonates in his heart, warm and oddly familiar, bubbling up to the surface with each passing second, and it's stronger than any doubts or misgivings could ever be. He's already losing the battle before he's even started fighting.

"Indeed," he replies quietly. Without thinking about it, he's already sitting down at the table beside Emet-Selch, unable to tear his gaze away. He sees the way Emet-Selch tilts his body slightly toward him, the angle of his shoulders and the smallest change of his expression, lips pulling upward and eyes narrowing minutely. Belatedly, he remembers to continue speaking. "... We may not see eye to eye but that doesn't mean we can't work together. I am not one to shy away from such an opportunity. I would always prefer to avoid conflict whenever possible, at any rate, and since you've so graciously afforded us that chance, why not take it?"

"Spoken like a true hero," Emet-Selch says, almost laughs, in a way that Zeph can only interpret as teasing. It makes him smile a little, his chest slowly filling with a gentle fluttering sensation, like butterflies flapping their wings under his ribcage. This, too… It feels so familiar. Like he's sat here talking with Emet-Selch exactly like this sometime before, even though he knows that can't be possible, when he only met Emet-Selch within the last hour.

… Still, it isn't the weirdest thing he's ever felt.

It takes a few moments but he gives in to the temptation to voice some of his thoughts. "Do I… know you from somewhere? I feel as though I recognize you." What exactly is it that he recognizes? Not his appearance to be sure, nor the name that he had only learned relatively recently when it was brought up by Gaius Baelsar. No, it goes deeper than that, even further than he can come close to fathoming. It feels bone deep, right to his very core, buried beneath everything he's ever been over the course of his life.

Something flashes in Emet-Selch's eyes at the query- so strong and intense that Zeph knows he didn't imagine it- but before he has the chance to try to decipher it, it's entirely gone and Emet-Selch is waving a hand dismissively as he stands from his seat and stretches. "I assure you," he says in a voice that's far too confident for Zeph to actually believe the words he's saying, but with an air of finality that Zeph can't possibly argue against. "... that's quite impossible."

Maybe he's right, Zeph thinks. Maybe there really is nothing there... Or maybe not. It's impossible to say for sure when he feels like he's still left in the dark, still trying and failing to swim to the surface. He wishes he had something- anything- to help him understand, when all he's ever had are the bearest of scraps- but he still doesn't. He'll just have to go along with Emet-Selch for now.

"Are you leaving already?" Zeph asks, watching Emet-Selch move toward the window, the Ascian's gaze pointed upward at the night sky.

"Oh, believe me, we'll be seeing much more of each other very soon," Emet-Selch replies, a small smirk once more finding its way onto his lips as he glances back at Zeph and then outside again. "And I get the sense.. that you and I will have much to discuss at that point."

Zeph finds himself smiling again, the fluttering sensation enveloping his chest like before and spreading warmth outward into his limbs, right to his fingertips. "... I should like that," he says honestly.

"... You're a strange one." There's something in Emet-Selch's tone… Affection? It had felt so tender, somehow. Was it just Zeph's mind playing tricks on him? And then all too soon, a cloud of black and purple begins to swallow the Ascian. "Until next time, Hero." 

Zeph watches him disappear, and then continues to stare at the spot where he had been standing for several more moments, as if willing Emet-Selch to come back. He can still see those golden eyes glittering at him, dark brown and silver hair framing his handsome face, smooth lips and creased brow, expression playful and mischievous and enticing.

His heart throbs for some reason and without knowing what to do, he takes several wide strides and flings himself onto his bed, burying his face into the blankets instantly.

Gods, he thinks sheepishly, his cheeks flooding with concentrated heat. He already has it bad, huh.


	2. Chapter 2

Zeph hadn't been expecting it in the slightest- how could he possibly have seen this coming?- but he's nothing short of absolutely delighted when he enters the Ocular the following morning and finds a certain someone present among his friends and the Exarch.

"Ah, there you are," Alisaie says as he enters, the large door closing behind him. "You're just in time to welcome our  _ guest _ …"

She emphasizes the word, as if to show how displeased she is, but Zeph's heart flutters in his chest, skips a near painful beat when he looks past her and sees none other than Emet-Selch standing in the center of the room.

Emet-Selch raises an eyebrow and his lips quirk up into something of a sneer. "Please," he says, shaking his head. "Did I not explicitly tell you that we would be meeting again soon?" It's strange- he seems to be responding to Alisaie contextually, but he's looking right at Zeph as he speaks, and Zeph can recall his words from the previous night, when the Ascian had appeared in his room. True to his word… And solid proof of it. Whatever Emet-Selch's intent truly is, it's certainly not to lie to and trick Zeph and his friends. He meets Emet-Selch's gaze and feels something like electricity buzzing along his skin.

"Lest you forget, I made you a promise," Emet-Selch continues after a moment. "I have no intention of meddling with your mission. I come only to observe." He then sends a sideways glance at Exarch, his eyes narrowing slightly as he grins. "Your Exarch friend in particular has piqued my curiosity. Summoning you all like that. Most impressive."

Zeph senses the tension in the room increase and he can see the way his friends react to Emet-Selch's words, their unveiled aggression and protectiveness toward the friend who has been guiding them throughout their time on the First. Zeph can't fault them for that, not when Exarch has been nothing short of a saint in these trying times. He can't share in their decided distrust of their guest, though. Not when he can still feel the odd, familiar warmth permeating his chest, like spring in the midst of the winter that clings to the other Scions.

Thancred is the first to speak out. "You honestly expect us to believe you've come only to observe? Or that you might deign to lift a finger to aid our cause if called upon?" His voice is a low growl. "Even if there were a sliver of truth in your words, I would never accept your help. Not in my darkest hour- not after all the suffering your kind has wrought."

His words are undoubtedly harsh but Zeph can't really blame him. Not when Thancred has had first hand experience with Ascians meddling in his life and wreaking havoc while he could do nothing to stop it. Lahabrea had certainly brought more than enough pain to Thancred back on the Source.

Emet-Selch, however, seems to remain mostly unbothered. He shrugs, shaking his head once more. "So petty. I said what I meant and meant what I said."

Zeph watches the way his expression shifts a moment later, the lax, carefree indifference morphing into something far more serious. "Wage a war against the sin eaters. Put each and every Lightwarden to the sword. Prove yourselves heroes brave and true, and I will be glad to embrace you as allies." There's something intense and secretive in his eyes as he goes on, and with it comes the feeling Zeph recognizes all too quickly, slowly filling up the spaces between his ribs. The same feeling he experiences every time he wakes up from his dreams… That there's something he needs to remember. Something so important that he's felt like he's been missing it all his life. 

He pauses and then, his voice full of indecipherable emotion, says "Allies worthy of bearing the burden of truth."

… Truth? What truth is that, Zeph wonders. In different circumstances, Zeph would want to ask him what he meant but with how on edge everyone is, he thinks the query will have to wait. And besides: Emet-Selch shrugs again and as quickly as the look had appeared, it's gone, the Ascian's face back to normal. "Surely such a partnership would be preferable to yet another round of fisticuffs?"

Vastly preferred, Zeph would agree. He can still see how much his friends are against the idea: Alisaie with her arms folded over her chest, Thancred's open hostility, Alphinaud halfway glaring at Emet-Selch with knitted brows, and the way Minfilia is slightly positioned behind Urianger, as if hiding from the Ascian. It would perhaps behoove him to go along with them and pacify their desire to keep themselves separated from the Ascians in all things. But in the end, Zeph remains undeterred as he steps forward, closer to Emet-Selch. He prays to whatever gods might be listening that this doesn't go poorly and then he opens his mouth.

"Let's… give it a try, hm?" he says, as much to himself and to Emet-Selch as to his friends.

As soon as Zeph says the words, he watches the mirth that abruptly dances across Emet-Selch's features. "At least one of you has some sense," he says, entirely pleased with the response. It's almost comical considering Zeph had said as much the previous night but he supposes it's possible Emet-Selch hadn't quite believed Zeph capable of saying so in the present company. After all, it's no secret the Scions hate the Ascians.

"What?!" Alisaie practically yells. "You can't be serious…"

Zeph laughs, unable to help himself. "I am quite serious, as a matter of fact. I would not have spoken were I not."

"Do you really think there's some truth in what he says?" Thancred asks.

Zeph glances at his friend and sees his expression is full of uncertainty- but there's a hint of something else there, a willingness to listen to Zeph's argument despite his earlier defiance. Then Zeph glances back to Emet-Selch, sees that same twinkle in his golden eyes, feels the warmth in his chest spreading, and he finds that he's already smiling, an action that brings out a satisfied smirk on Emet-Selch's face. "... A kernel, perhaps," Zeph says. "At least, I can see no downside to his proposed arrangement. If we work together, you can keep an eye on him without much extra work. And who knows, we might find his presence… something of an asset over time."

The smirk remains on Emet-Selch's features, though Zeph notes there's something softer about it as he argues for Emet-Selch's side, almost as if he's actually smiling rather than sneering. Zeph wonders if he's imagining it or if the others might see it as well.

Alphinaud sighs after a few moments. "... If he meant to lead us astray, he could have done so without revealing himself. At least not in the manner he did."

"Ah," Emet-Selch says smugly. "So you  _ can _ use your brains."

At that, Alisaie lets out a very audible grunt of annoyance. If Zeph turned around to look at her, he's quite sure she probably would be rolling her eyes right now, but he doesn't take his gaze off Emet-Selch. And Emet-Selch doesn't take his gaze off Zeph either. His eyes are probing somehow- inquisitive- searching Zeph's very soul for gods know what, but at the same time revealing nothing of his inner thoughts and leaving Zeph with an odd sensation of breathlessness.

"If thou art sure of thyself, Zeph'yrr…" Urianger speaks out after having been quiet for the majority of the conversation. He approaches Zeph and out of the corner of his eye, Zeph sees the astrologian give one last distrustful look at Emet-Selch before shaking his head. "Then thou shalt have my full support for thy decision."

"Even you, Urianger?" Alisaie's tone is one of wilting displeasure, but she appears eager not to be outdone by Urianger. "Fine, then. I'll go along with it too. But if the Ascian tries anything at all, I won't be giving him a second chance."

Zeph is a little surprised. He certainly hadn't expected to win everyone over so quickly, let alone for them all to voice their support so readily. Perhaps all they needed was that little push. He wonders if Emet-Selch is just as surprised as he is, or if he perhaps foresaw the group acquiescing as soon as Zeph voiced approval of him. There's no evidence one way or the other on his handsome features.

"... It seems we are in agreement," Alphinaud says after a short pause. "Emet-selch, we, the Scions, formally accept your offer of cooperation and bid you leave to accompany us."

Emet-Selch bursts out laughing at that, the sound like music as it rings in Zeph's ears and flitters down his spine. "As if I needed your permission," he says, laughing again when Alphinaud narrows his eyes. "But all the same, I appreciate the gesture." His tone has more humility in it now and his eyes sparkle a bit before he claps his hands together. "Now then, with that all settled and behind us, I believe we have some sin eaters to discuss."

Exarch steps forward, the smallest of frowns on his lips just visible under his cowl, but he regardless gives a nod and seems content to move the conversation forward. "I would begin by thanking you all for your efforts thus far," he says. "In striking down the Lightwardens of Lakeland and Il Mheg, you have accomplished more in your short time here than all of our forces managed in the last century."

"That may be, but the wardens of Kholusia, Amh Araeng, and Rak'tika remain," Thancred says pointedly. It does put a slight damper on things knowing they're not even halfway there.

"Indeed," Exarch concedes sheepishly. "and their precise whereabouts are as yet unknown. Which is why I propose we divide our forces and conduct a systematic survey of each region. Once we have found our quarry, we may then determine how best to proceed."

"Sounds like a solid plan," Zeph agrees. "We can far more easily seek out the Wardens if we split up." He has a brief, fleeting thought that if they do go separate ways, then perhaps he won't get to spend more time with Emet-Selch, but he doesn't let himself longer on it.

"I'll take Amh Araeng, in that case," Alisaie volunteers, raising her hand in a haphazard wave. "I know the lie of the land well enough." She seems pleased to be able to leave the main group, most likely as a means to get away from Emet-Selch. A stark contrast to Zeph's own desires, he thinks in amusement.

"If there are no objections, I will make for Kholusia," Alphinaud follows up. "I have connections there both in and around Eulmore that may prove useful." Logical, Zeph thinks. He can still remember how Alphinaud had worked his way into the hearts of the residents of Kholusia before they had infiltrated Eulmore.

Exarch gives both Alphinaud and Alisaie nods before turning to Zeph. "Then I would ask that you journey to-"

"Rak'tika," Emet-Selch immediately cuts in. "Splendid." The way he says it makes Zeph's heart skip a beat, because from his reaction, it sounds as if he fully intends to accompany Zeph to the Greatwood and nothing would make Zeph more delighted. Further cementing his intentions, the Ascian moves around so that he's standing beside Zeph, almost close enough that if Zeph were to reach out, he could probably take Emet-Selch's hand in his own. Not that he would, of course, but the thought certainly crosses his mind.

Exarch looks mildly put out for some reason. He continues nonetheless, " ... There you will find Y'shtola. With her assistance, I doubt the warden will evade your grasp for long."

Zeph hears Minfilia's quiet voice behind him, asking about Y'shtola, and Thancred and Urianger dutifully responding in kind, and afterward, the Exarch appears to make plans to travel with Alphinaud to Eulmore for a meeting with Lord Vauthry, in spite of the obvious nature of the trap. Zeph knows he's aware of the risks and that he probably has a backup plan so he isn't too worried about how Exarch will fare in Eulmore.

And as things stand, he's already moving closer to Emet-Selch, acutely aware of every pulse of his heart, the warmth beneath his skin, the tingling that spreads into his limbs and the tip of his tail.

"So," he says, seeking confirmation. "you'll be joining us in Rak'tika then?"

"But of course," Emet-Selch replies instantly, eyebrows high on his forehead as if Zeph had just asked him the dullest of questions- which perhaps he had, admittedly. "How else can I watch firsthand how the Warrior of Darkness vanquishes his foes?"

Zeph laughs and the fluttering in his chest grows stronger. "I'm glad," he says earnestly. "I was hoping you would be coming."

Once more, Zeph's words seem to catch Emet-Selch off guard. He purses his pretty lips and shakes his head. "Truly, Hero, you are a strange one."

"As if you're one to talk," Zeph counters, eyes narrowed playfully. He resists the urge to bump his shoulder against Emet-Selch and instead scratches at the back of his neck a little sheepishly, unable to even begin to comprehend why the urge had formed in the first place. It certainly seems inappropriate for the situation, to say the least. "By the way," he adds, a little belatedly. "If we're going to be working together, it seems only logical to use nicknames, doesn't it? Is it alright if I call you Emet?"

The query sparks something in Emet-Selch's golden eyes, something Zeph has trouble reading. It's sharp and hard for a split second before it softens and Zeph thinks there might be affection there once more, if he really squints. Or he could still be imagining things. "... Call me whatever you like," the Ascian replies after a few moments.

Zeph is practically buzzing, a low purr of approval in his throat while he beams at Emet. "Good! And you can call me Zeph. That's what all my friends call me, and I should be most pleased if you would as well."

"Is that so." Mischief flashes dark in his pupils and Emet is smirking again, the expression simultaneously setting off fireworks under Zeph's ribcage and filling him with a sense of exasperation because Emet clearly isn't going to go along with this. "I think I shall stick with Zeph'yrr."

He should have known. "Oh, come now. There's no need for formalities." He pouts slightly, giving Emet a pointed stare, and folds his arms over his chest, unable to help himself.

"Formalities? I'm simply using your name as intended, Zeph'yrr. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Now you're just making excuses!"

And though Emet makes no sound of laughter, it's there regardless, dancing in his eyes and shimmering in the upturned corners of his mouth. "Is such behavior really acceptable for a hero, Zeph'yrr?"

If Zeph were more immature, he would probably stick his tongue out at Emet like a scorned child. But he's not, of course, so he settles for a reluctant sigh and a resigned shrug instead, smile finding its way back onto his lips. He supposes Zeph'yrr will have to suffice, for now. At least he gets to spend time with Emet, just as he had hoped.

"Fine, have it your way," he says. The playful glare he sends Emet's way has no effect at all as Emet smirks back at him.

"I always do."

Eventually, the conversations behind them dwindle and everyone readies to head off to perform their respective duties. The Exarch leaves them all with a final sentiment, "Safe travels, everyone," and then one by one, they file out of the Ocular. Zeph doesn't quite understand it but he can't deny the offhanded thought as he follows Thancred back out into the Crystarium, that somehow their travels do seem as though they'll be safer with Emet beside them. He'll have to think on that one some more.


	3. Chapter 3

They make a quick stop in Lakeland to acquire a tome to bring to Y'shtola- apparently meant as much as a peace offering from the Exarch to their dear friend as it is meant to actually aid them in seeking out the Lightwarden. That, of course, doesn't take long, though, and before they know it, their group of five steps beyond the connecting gate and into the towering treetops of the Rak'tika Greatwood.

It's absolutely gorgeous, Zeph can't help thinking instantly, blinking around at the brilliant foliage that surrounds him: from deep greens and vibrant blues, to shimmering yellows and warm oranges, the trees, shrubs, flowers, and mushrooms all call out to him and his fingers already itch for his journal, for the chance to survey the area and take all the notes he can as he explores and jots down sketches of all the plant life in its pages. It feels like a region that's just begging to tell its story, the hidden tale amidst the ever growing flora and mysterious abandoned ruins buzzing like the echo of music in his ears. And gods know Zeph wants to hear it.

Urianger clearly notes Zeph's excitement. "Vast though these woods may be, they are, by and large, uninhabitable," he says. "Not so the Swamps of Citia, however, whose sparse foliage permitted man a foothold." He gestures down the path and Zeph thinks he can see something in the distance, somewhere further into the green. A fort of some kind, perhaps.

However, before he can begin to ask about it, he's distracted by the slow skulk of a figure striding past him. Emet, he belatedly realizes while the Ascian walks forward and only stops once he reaches the edge of the path overlooking the outstretching woods. Then he says, with far too great a measure of decorum, "'No lands must remain beyond our grasp. Go forth. Conquer. Rule.'" His voice is full and deep, his words exaggerated and grandiose. Zeph almost forgets his interest in the forest as he stares. "... Forgive me," the Ascian says a moment later, turning back around with a smug smirk on his lips. "A sudden pang of nostalgia for those halcyon days... Exploring virgin territories, subjugating primitive people… All for the glory of Garlemald!"

It's bizarre but the only way Zeph can think to describe it is that Emet almost appears to be putting on a show, as if he's an actor in a play, standing in the spotlight of the stage that is the world, and he's particularly invested in portraying his character correctly. It's off putting and yet captivating at the same time. Every move of his arms, every gesture with his hands, every tilt of his head, and the way he pronounces each word… Every inch of it is practiced to perfection. How else can he convince his audiences, after all? He's assuming the role of the ambitious founding father, the leading force behind the growth of the empire, and he's doing a damn good job of it, no doubt. Zeph wonders just how long Emet has been living as this persona.

"If you've brought your ivory standard," Thancred says flatly. "I'll be happy to tell you where to stick it."

Emet's expression immediately drops into a scowl. Zeph would have laughed, if he didn't still sense the discomfort clinging to his friends at the Ascian's presence, not to mention Thancred seems on edge, even if his words are vaguely humorous. "Can we not simply take a moment to enjoy the view together?" Emet drops the dramatic pose he had previously struck and falls back into a slouch as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Or would you rather I spied on you from the shadows? Much more of this, and I may very well begin to regret my show of good faith."

Thancred merely sighs and shakes his head.

Zeph wants to say something- he had, after all, been the sole reason for their current situation, so he feels particularly responsible for the levels of tension that continue to remain high. But what though?

Before Zeph can come up with anything, however, someone else speaks up first. For the first time since his introduction, Minfilia addresses the Ascian. "If... if you really want to stay, then help us fight."

Both Emet and Thancred blink at the girl with wide eyes. Zeph himself is surprised as well, with how timid and unsure the Oracle has been in the time he's known her. But the look in her eyes, despite still reflecting a measure of fear, shows a determination that seems a stark contrast to the steadfast refusal of the rest of their group to welcome Emet into their midst.

After a few moments, Emet finally offers a reply, though perhaps not the one Minfilia might have hoped for. "Mmm... No, I think not. I am an observer- nothing more."

Something about that strikes Zeph as untrue, but just what, he can't be sure. That Emet had called himself a simple observer? Isn't that accurate? As far as Zeph is aware, all Emet had done thus far is tail Zeph and his friends. So why is it that he feels like Emet is lying when he says he does "nothing more" than watch? Why, indeed... 

Poor Minfilia looks absolutely put out by his response. "You really won't…?" Ah well, Zeph muses sympathetically. At least she tried.

"Besides..." Emet gestures up to the sky after another moment, his expression disinterested. "Even shielded by the shadows of these boughs, I feel the Light's presence most keenly. To accompany you is taxing enough. To fight is out of the question."

"Fine," Thancred growls. By his tone, Zeph can tell he intends to cut off anything else the Ascian might have wanted to say at this point. "I will suffer your company if I must, but not your commentary."

For a split second, Emet opens his mouth as if to argue but then he closed it again, annoyance written in the crease of his brow and the pursing of his lips. With a small bow, he ceases talking, which appears to please Thancred as he gestures for Urianger and Minfilia and then begins to make his way down the path further into the Greatwood. Slowly, Zeph waits until Emet starts to follow behind and then falls into step beside him.

He hates this, really. Again, he can't really blame his friends for disliking Emet's presence but at the same time… He somehow finds himself wishing he could remedy things. He wants them to accept Emet as a temporary member of their group, and for all of them to get along, even just a bit. He knows he's always been this way, seeking to make sure that everyone around him is comfortable, but something in these circumstances… The fact that it's Emet in specific makes it all the more important to him. He wants Emet around and he wants them to want Emet around, too.

Perhaps… A little bit of normal conversation might help. He swallows lightly and steels his nerves to break the quiet.

"So Emet," he says.

And as expected, the Ascian shoots him a pointed stare, one he can feel mirrored on Thancred's face even if he isn't looking at his friend. Thancred had just told him not to open his mouth, Zeph knows. But that was in regards to the previous conversation, wasn't it? Because Emet had been reminiscing about Garlemald and refusing his assistance to their cause. But Zeph won't be able to get anywhere if Emet doesn't talk so he has to try.

After a few seconds, Emet narrows his eyes and finally speaks again, to Zeph's relief. "... What is it now?" he asks blandly. "Do you expect me to regale you with  _ friendly banter _ ?" He seems almost annoyed at the prospect for all of several moments but then his expression softens slightly and he shakes his head. Zeph watches in fascination, unsure why his heartbeat feels so sharp in his chest. "Oh, very well." Emet rescinds his earlier denial as quickly as he had given it in the first place. "I will humor you just this once. You may consider it my latest act of good faith. Come on, then. What do you wish to know?"

A question to ask… Zeph has a million and one of those, of course, but he really only needs to choose one. Something that will get them contentedly chatting, enough to help the others relax. He hurriedly sifts through his thoughts until one stands out.

"... Why choose this form here on the First?"

Emet's eyes are narrowing again, but Zeph notes that it doesn't appear to be displeasure this time: in fact the Ascian is starting to smile a bit and that has Zeph smiling as well. "Well, well, what a curious question," Emet says. "Mortal flesh is but the vessel into which we Ascians pour the elixir of our souls, molding it as fits the occasion. Or not, if we so choose. Be it for a year or a millennium, I prefer to retain the same form until my duty is done. So, after arriving here in the First, I fashioned some hapless body into the man you see before you." 

Pointing at Thancred, he adds, "Though as your friend over there can attest, there are those of us who forgo such alterations. He was ever the rash one, Lahabrea. Jumping from vessel to vessel. Never heeding the toll it took on him."

Zeph doesn't doubt that one bit. Lahabrea had always seemed so desperate in the times Zeph had interacted with him. Willing to do anything and everything for his cause without a second thought for the consequences. At the mention of Lahabrea, Thancred had stiffened a bit, but after hearing Emet's sentiments, he appears to relax again, his shoulders dropping back down and hands unclenching from fists. Zeph can't help wondering if there's a part of Thancred that holds sympathy for Lahabrea… or perhaps more accurately, pity.

Regardless, he turns his attention back to Emet and shakes his head. "That's very interesting and all but you haven't actually answered my question."

"... What do you mean?" Emet frowns.

"Duty or not, surely there must be some reason as to why you prefer this form, even after all this time." Zeph considers his words, his heart thrumming under his ribcage as if attempting to create music against the bones while he thinks. "Why you would choose it in the first place… To maintain this appearance in particular, until your duty is through. Why is that?"

Emet's brows knit on his forehead as he gazes at Zeph and then returns to looking out at the scenery of the Greatwood while they continue down the path. Zeph can see something there, peeking out from behind the carefully crafted mask Emet wears. A gentle melancholy humming beneath the surface. It takes another few seconds before he says quietly, "This form is familiar to me. It is… similar to how I once looked, long ago. Long before Garlemald and the rejoinings… Before any of this." Something about those words resonates with Zeph, sparks a wave of nostalgia that washes over him and laps at his chest like the sea during a storm. Gods, he wants to understand it. He can't fathom why, or what it could possibly mean- so he does his best to ignore the feeling, even as it tries to pull him under its currents.

"That's better," he says, smiling warmly, sincerely at Emet. "Honesty suits you."

Whether or not intentionally, Emet is smiling back, slightly uncertain, but yet still soft somehow. Soft and warm. "You really are strange," he grumbles quietly, shaking his head with an amused chuckle.

And Zeph beams at him. "I do my best," he replies. That earns him another chuckle.

They keep chatting while they make their way deeper into Rak'tika and steadily, Zeph can sense his friends all beginning to relax, the tension slowly melting away like ice with the coming of spring. He's not sure what it is exactly- if it's the pleasant conversation that Zeph has managed to facilitate between himself and Emet, or the genuine answers that Emet has given to Zeph's questions, or the fact that Emet comes off so gentle right now, in stark contrast to his bold, charismatic performance from earlier. Zeph can't really imagine it's that last one… After all, he can't even be sure he isn't picking up on something that isn't there.

In the end, it probably doesn't matter anyway. Everyone seems more comfortable and that's satisfactory enough for Zeph.

Doesn't explain why he keeps having to resist the inexplicable urge to reach out and hold Emet's hand, though. Yes, that still remains a mystery.


	4. Chapter 4

Zeph stands idly by the aetheryte in Slitherbough, practically radiating disappointment. To everyone else, he probably appears his normal self- after all, he's gotten quite good at hiding his emotions over the years- but underneath his carefully controlled exterior, displeasure buzzes around like flies in his skull.

It's probably a combination of many things, after all much has already occurred since their arrival in Rak'tika… Though there is one thing that stands out above the rest, as much as it seems ridiculous.

Everything had been going smoothly at first. Their small group had reached Fort Gohn in higher spirits, thanks to Zeph's attempts- successful attempts, he might add- at making them feel more comfortable with Emet's presence, and they were all quite ready to meet up with Y'shtola. But all too quickly, as it always seems to happen, it all went downhill from there.

The fort was abandoned and in a state of disrepair, clearly untouched for a long period of time- though how long, Zeph can't be certain. Plants had overgrown the remnants of the structure, which still showed signs of the sin eater attack that Urianger had told them about, the wood burnt, blackened, and clearly still destroyed. Not really much of a fort, or much of anything at all in its current state.

"Well?" Emet had seemed rather unimpressed, not that Zeph could blame him. "Where is this friend of yours we've come to meet?"

"Urianger… I thought you said they were rebuilding...?" Minfilia had looked to the astrologian in confusion, nerves making her antsy.

Urianger had appeared just as confused as the rest of them, though, and after a brief pause to think, he had told them they should look further into the Greatwood for Y'shtola.

Which would have been a simple feat if, moments afterward, a group of unknown people hadn't swiftly filed into the remnants of the fort and surrounded them with weapons drawn, aimed, and ready to fire. Zeph can still recall the way his heart had pounded unevenly in his chest as he raised his hands into the air along with his friends.

Mistaken for sin eaters, he thinks soberly. As if they were strangers or monsters… The Night's Blessed first referred to them as such, their confidence only beginning to dwindle once Thancred had spoken and caused them to doubt the observation. And yet when Y'shtola had appeared, she had been so certain. The others she claimed to recognize with ease, but Zeph… She truly believed there was a sin eater in their midst. She had no idea it was him. And that… just doesn't sit right with him even now, long after she had apologized and brought the group to Slitherbough, the main settlement for the Night's Blessed.

"There is but one manner of creature in this world whose aether is suffused with such an abundance of light," she had said sharply.

There's an implication there, Zeph knows. Something deeper and heavier than Urianger seems to want him to believe, if the way the older man had tried to write it off as a strange coincidence is anything to go by. Not to mention the way Y'shtola's face had morphed into shock and distress when Urianger told her it was him… There's something wrong here, something that neither Exarch nor Urianger is willing to tell him about. And perhaps, he thinks wearily, he's not quite ready to dwell on it either. Not yet, at least.

After all, that isn't even truly the reason he remains bothered.

He sighs, glancing around the settlement. The area is vibrantly green, and being surrounded by giant tree roots and boughs that stretch up and outward, blocking out the light that would normally beat down on all sides, the space is far more temperate and cool, the canopy of shade protecting it from the heat. There's a small vegetable garden on one side, tended with obvious care, and a series of cave rooms that spans the length of the backside of the aetheryte, which Zeph assumes are shared sleeping quarters and possible storage rooms. Oddly homey, if a little small. It's comfortable despite its simplicity and Zeph certainly would say he's already fond of the place.

Alas, his observations serve as a poor distraction in the end. With one more sigh, his shoulders drop and he shakes his head.

When they first arrived, Y'shtola had led them into her chamber, the cave in the center of Slitherbough, and once inside, Zeph had brought her up to speed by giving a detailed recounting of his dealings with the Lightwardens in Lakeland and Il Mheg. Of course, they search for the warden in Rak'tika now, and Y'shtola believes she can help them find it once she finishes deciphering the tablet Exarch had them fetch for her. But the conversation had still left Zeph a little drained, especially because she and Thancred had bickered and the gunbreaker had stormed off to sulk. Zeph doesn't particularly want to involve himself in their spat, but he does get the sense that Y'shtola doesn't understand Thancred as well as she thinks she does.

Ah, well. He can at least look out for Minfilia in the meantime.

He paces a bit, shuffling his feet and glancing around until he spots Runar over past the vegetable garden. Y'shtola had told him to seek the ronso out and he knows he should, so he can learn more of their customs and of the region, but he still finds himself hesitating, unable to get himself to follow through.

If only Emet hadn't left…

That really is the crux of the matter, isn't it. When the Blessed's warriors had surrounded their group, Emet had only grown more dissatisfied with the circumstances until he reached the end of his patience. Zeph can still hear his words echoing in his head like a broken record when Emet had decided he had had enough. "You've committed the cardinal sin of  _ boring _ me," he had said, unwilling to stick around and remain a hostage under the Blessed's gazes. And then he had disappeared into a cloud of black and purple right before their eyes, before Zeph even had the chance to protest.

Gone just like that… and already Zeph feels his absence keenly. Amazing how even that short amount of time together had been more than enough to make him grow used to Emet's presence, as if he belonged here. Or perhaps it's because of and not in spite of the short span. He just wants more time, he thinks meekly… He wants Emet to return.

Maybe… Maybe if he just… gives it a try. What's he got to lose anyway? It's not like he'll be worse off so he might as well…

Sighing once more and glancing around to make sure no one is paying particular attention to him, he clears his throat and then speaks. "Emet…?" His voice is reserved, but even he can hear the note of hopefulness in it, painfully and embarrassingly obvious. He would cringe if he didn't already feel so desperate.

Nothing changes. The settlement is quiet, the only sound the background buzz of nature and the vague chatter of the Night's Blessed as they go about their business. The aetheryte's shadow stretches across the ground, spinning and spinning as it looms over him. He should have known better than to hope for something so unlikely… The sense of disappointment only seems to grow stronger, searing his chest like flames.

But then, abruptly and without warning, a familiar voice sounds beside Zeph's ear.

"... You really missed me that much, hm?" Zeph somehow manages not to startle- how he does it, he has absolutely no idea but his heart skips a poignant beat as he whirls to the side and finds the Ascian already standing beside him. His expression is incredulous, brows high on his forehead and lips pursed while he blinks at Zeph. "Lost without me, are you?" His voice is like music to Zeph's ears, dancing down his spine as if each vertebrae were a piano key.

And it takes literally all of Zeph's willpower not to instantly throw himself into Emet's arms and embrace him. He can't remember the last time he felt so strong an urge, and it baffles him that he can somehow manage to resist it. "Emet," he says warmly, his feelings manifesting as an excited purr that vibrates in his throat while his tail swishes back and forth.

"Yes, yes, it is I." Like before, he's laughing without the noise of laughter, his eyes sparkling even as he pretends to be put out. "After practically chasing me away with that earlier display, you're lucky I'm willing to give you a second chance."

At that, Zeph gives him a cheeky grin. The fact that Emet had come out of hiding as soon as Zeph had called for him… He's going to have to remember this for future use- it will certainly come in handy. "For the record," he says after a moment. "we've made smooth progress since then. Y'shtola's already helping us seek out the Warden as we speak."

"Indeed," Emet says, rolling his eyes, but he's smiling as well, seemingly amused. "Your friend certainly does know how to make an entrance."

"And you don't?"

Emet's eyes narrow. "Yes, well... At least the shade here is prevalent. I feel the light less severely, so I suppose, if you just can't  _ bear _ to be parted from me… I can remain here. For the time being."

As it turns out, simply trying really does make all the difference.

"Nothing would make me more delighted," Zeph replies. He beams at Emet, pleased to note that all his frustration has already melted away without him noticing, and his chest is once again filled with a gentle fluttering that only grows stronger and warmer while Emet gazes back at him. There's something a little nostalgic about it, if he focuses on the waves of warmth bubbling up under his ribcage. It reminds him of something, perhaps something long since forgotten, though he's not quite sure just what. Maybe if he thinks about it a little longer… Maybe he'll be able to figure out what's drawing him to Emet, even when they're just standing here side by side. 

"Right, then. First on the schedule is meeting up with Runar." He points out the ronso to Emet where he stands some ways past the aetheryte. "Y'shtola told me he would give me motivation to keep going as the Warrior of Darkness, but I get the feeling that she really just wants to keep me busy while she works."

"Very likely," Emet agrees with a solemn nod. "Who knows what the Warrior of Darkness would do without guidance or tasks to carry out."

Zeph laughs and throws Emet a playful glare. "What, are you saying I would get into trouble?"

"I'm not  _ saying _ it- merely  _ implying _ ," Emet responds with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"How rude." Contrary to the indignation in his tone, Zeph is laughing as he and Emet make their way across Slitherbough together.


	5. Chapter 5

Runar had been unsettled by Emet's presence at first, probably in part due to the way the Ascian had unceremoniously disappeared at Fort Gohn- Zeph can't really blame him, after all it probably didn't help to watch what one thinks is a sin eater vanish into thin air before their very eyes. But Zeph had been quick to placate him, "Don't worry, he's a friend," and now the ronso seems relatively unbothered as he leads Zeph, Emet, and Minfilia into one of the caves to begin teaching them about the customs of the Night's Blessed. Apparently it doesn't take much convincing to win Runar over, he thinks in amusement, though his mind still lingers on the expression that had flitted across Emet's face at the use of the word "friend." Surprise, and something more guarded. Something Zeph doesn't think he was supposed to see. Perhaps he imagined it, but Emet had seemed… happy, somehow? Pleased?

Of course, the look was gone before Zeph could even begin to process it so it hardly matters at this point.

"We use the water stored here to cleanse ourselves of the Light's impurity," Runar explains, bringing them over to several pots filled with what appears to be plain, old water. "A simple and perhaps peculiar custom, but it is one of our most important." He gestures between Zeph and Minfilia in front of him and then back toward the water. "Would you two kneel for just a moment, that I might rid you of the Light's impurity?"

"Of course," Minfilia says eagerly, dropping to one knee. And Zeph follows suit, closing his eyes as he hears Runar's hands dip into the water and scoop it up into his palms.

"You call it peculiar but it hardly seems so," he says. He pauses as he hears Runar's footsteps approaching him and then presently, he feels the sprinkle of water over his head. "It's perfectly suited to your people, I would say." The water fizzles a bit as it touches his ears and the skin of his face, tingling with an indescribable sensation that causes his eyes to open in confusion.

"Glad you think so," Runar says with a smile before turning back to Minfilia, who had eagerly begun asking him questions about the Night's Blessed.

Zeph's head is slightly fuzzy. Was it… supposed to do that? Should the water have felt completely normal? Or is it possible that it was because of…

No, he shouldn't make any assumptions. He would ask Runar about it but since he and Minfilia are already chatting, he doesn't think it fair to interrupt with his pointless idlings. The ronso had said the water is blessed by their priests so mayhap the sensation was just a part of the purification process.

Besides, he thinks, turning back to the cave entrance where Emet stands waiting, leaning against the cave wall with a bored look on his face. He has far more important things to consider.

Emet catches his gaze and immediately, a sharp frown pulls on his lips. "I will not take part in their silly rituals," he says stiffly. Zeph grins at him, almost laughing at how easily he can read Zeph's intentions.

However, rather than responding, he just keeps grinning, a little cheeky as he beckons Emet forth with one hand. He's not sure what possessed him to do this but somehow, he knows that Emet won't say no to him so he finds himself strangely confident.

After a few moments, Emet shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "... You certainly are incorrigible. Alright, fine." And Zeph is practically beaming as Emet pushes off the wall and moves forward to stand in front of Runar. The ronso blinks in surprise, startled out of whatever he had been saying to Minfilia, and he glances from Emet to Zeph with uncertainty flashing starkly on his features. This time, Zeph does laugh. "It's alright," he says in amusement. "Just perform the cleansing once more."

Runar hesitates a bit, but after another moment, he nods and reaches over to scoop up more water into his hands while Emet kneels down, scowling.

"Don't see why I have to…" Emet is grumbling the whole time but to his credit, he stays put and lets Runar sprinkle the water over him, only standing once it's complete, and he sends Zeph a pointed stare, though there's no harshness in his gaze. Instead, it makes Zeph's heart flutter in his chest, electricity sparking through his veins. "Well, then. Happy now?" Emet says, in a way that makes Zeph think he's repressing a smile of his own.

And Zeph is beaming again without thinking about it. "Thrilled," he purrs, his tail flicking up involuntarily. He's more than happy, actually, enough that words wouldn't be able to describe it. Emet just shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

Spending time with Emet like this, well… He can almost forget just how much rests on his shoulders.


End file.
